


You suck: Let the red one in

by CC_Writes



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood mentioned, Gift Fic, Humor, M/M, Vampire AU, compulsive counting, playing with vampire mythology, you suck au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 03:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11637594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CC_Writes/pseuds/CC_Writes
Summary: Takes place in the "You Suck" by a_taller_tale, who hopefully won't mind that I decided to play around in their AU ^^0Grif and Simmons have an argument. Simmons get's stuck outside and must find a way back in. Nothing goes his way, as it is often want to do. Comedic use of vampire mythology.





	You suck: Let the red one in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_taller_tale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_taller_tale/gifts).
  * Inspired by [You Suck](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10816914) by [a_taller_tale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_taller_tale/pseuds/a_taller_tale). 



> Did my best to keep this as accurate to the original fic as I could, (which you should go read if you haven't, it's a lot of fun!) hopefully I didn't get any details wrong. ^^0 
> 
> Wrote this over the course of a couple of hours before bed. The title is a joke on "Let the right one in" but other than that and being a bout vampires they have nothing in common.

 

"Grif you asshole!"

"Mhmm, resorted to insults so soon have we?"

Simmons grit his teeth, "Grif, this isn't funny, let me in!"

The man in question surveyed the edges of the door frame as though inspecting it for some sort of flaw or looking for a specific detail, leaning against the very obviously open door, arms crossed. Like an asshole.

"This door does seem to be open..."

He then shrugged, backing up and moving further into the entry way.

Was that an invitation? Did that count? While he knew a lot of the major rules of being a vampire, Simmons still didn't know many of the finer details. He knew he couldn't go through a door, specifically the door into a house, no, a _dwelling_ , (doors inside a house or apartment were okay) unless he had permission. Public buildings and businesses were exceptions.

But sometimes it was tricky, sometimes it had to be a direct invitation, verbal always worked, sometimes gestures, sometimes even saying he could come back anytime. Even then there were nuances, like, "it's open!" counted, "I'm in [room]!" did not.

It was at its worst with Grif, though he could hardly blame him in some aspects, it made sense not to just give a predator that specialized specifically in eating people, free reign of your home. Which meant if Simmons ever went outside Grif had to give him express permission to come back in, and Grif was anything but clear at least 80% of the time.

Hence this dilemma...

 

Grif was looking at him expectantly, so guess that was an invitation?

He clenched his fists and stalked angrily through the door. Or he tried to. The very instant he stepped past the threshold he found himself knocked back on his ass by the inexplicable wave of force that accompanied trespassing.

Grif was laughing his head off, clutching his sides as he leaned on the door for support.

"Oh my god! Your fucking face! Jesus Christ!" he gasped through peels of laughter.

That giant asshole!

 

"I'm going to fucking **eat** you, you son of a bitch!" Simmons seethed from his position on the ground, eyes flashing in the dark like a cat's, his fangs more obvious as his lip curled away from them in a snarl.

It might have actually been intimidating, had he not been on the ground, and had Grif actually had any reason to be afraid of him.

"Uh huh... Yeah, that's totally gonna get you invited in." Grif snarked, nonplussed.

"Why are you doing this?" Simmons whined, getting to his feet, "This isn't funny!"

"Oh it's hilarious, and it serves you right."

The redhead balked, " _It serves me, right?_ What the hell does that mean? I didn't do anything!"

Grif's eyes narrowed, "Oh yes you did. Pretending you don't remember isn't going to make me let you in."

Simmons gasped out several indignant sounds in response, he hadn't **done** anything! Nothing at all! What could Grif possibly be mad about?!

But... Shit. What if he had done something? There were times when he, well not blanked out exactly, and it wasn't a loss of control per-say... But sometimes he'd do something instinctively, sometimes things he would never willingly do, and not understand just why he had done them. So it wasn't impossible that he was guilty of something.

Ugh! But if Grif didn't tell him how was he supposed to know!? Why didn't he just say? He couldn't fix it unless he knew! What was this?! A sitcom!?

All he could do was stand there wracking his brain for an answer while boring a hole through Grif's thick skull with his glare.

Stubborn ass. How was he supposed to know what he did? If he did anything. Couldn't do anything about it if he didn't know! But ooooh no! That would be too easy, so instead, they were just going to stand here until one of them died! Stupid fat ass. Glaring back at him. Asshole. Probably didn't even care. Probably just thinking about cake. And ice cream. That Mac and cheese too, it was only a month old, tops! And all the Oreos! That had to be out of spite, that shit never went bad! Just fucking throw everything out without asking! Let him sweat it out, out here waiting for sunrise, teach him a fucking lesson! Stupid prissy red haired blood sucking prick! A man's food was a sacred thing and you couldn't just go around-

"YOU'RE MAD BECAUSE I THREW OUT ALL THE ROTTING SHIT IN YOUR FRIDGE!?" Simmons shrieked, "Also apparently I can just read minds now!"

Was that a thing? That was a vampire thing right? He'd read everything he could find about vampires but who even knew what was true or not!? He had seen something about them getting inside people's heads by making eye contact. So that must be it, sustained eye contact meant reading immediate thoughts. Maybe?

It also answered what another person's thoughts sounded like, they sounded like yours.

Was that necessary information? Is this going to be on the _test_? (Yes, Yes it will.)

 

"Oi! I didn't give you permission to root around in my head you tick! And you're damn right I'm mad about that! That was my food, not yours!"

Thing confirmed, and also, "It all went bad! I told you that!"

"It was not! That shit can keep for like a million years!"

"It stunk to high heaven!"

"Maybe to your super powered schnoz-!"

"You don't need super powers to smell that! It was all way past its expiry date! It was leaking everywhere! It ruined everything else in the fridge! Besides, you can't keep eating that garbage, it's so bad for you, it's not even funny! Hell, I can taste it in your blood, it's like there's literally trash!"

Oh, that was not the right thing to say.

Grif's eyes narrowed and Simmons could just somehow tell that he'd gone from petty irritation to genuine anger. It was like a thick acrid tar seething in the back of his skull.

"You fucking listen to me and you listen **good**." Grif hissed, voice dangerously calm, "You might get to 'dine in' here, and I may let you get away with a lot of shit because you genuinely don't know, but you do not **ever** get to dictate what I do or what can and cannot eat. You get to stay here because I'm letting you. I am not fucking _**livestock**_!"

His final sentence was punctuated by the door slamming in Simmons' face before he could even respond.

"But... But that wasn't why I... I didn't mean..."

Crap.

 

He wasn't trying to imply Grif was just food, Jesus Christ! How could he ever even think that!? He just... All the food had gone bad and he'd cleaned it out because you just couldn't leave rotting food in there, and it had smelled terrible, and he really didn't think Grif would be mad about it.

At least not too mad.

Who kept Oreo's in the fridge anyway?!

Simmons sighed, how was he supposed to get back in? Grif wouldn't leave him out here all night would he? If he was out here when the sun came up...

Maybe he should go find somewhere else to stay? Maybe like a mall or something? He could probably bust a lock on a back door with his bare hands now. Wait, would that even work? You weren't supposed to be in a store when it was closed, did that count as not being "invited"?

Crap. Again.

 

Maybe he should go rent a hotel room? He didn't have his wallet though. YMCA or something maybe?

Damn it none of those were good ideas, this area was jammed full of hunters who would love to murder him, plus there was the issue of food if he didn't eat he'd go nuts or something and probably kill someone or god knew what else...

Plus the idea of feeding from anyone other than Grif just... Felt wrong. Maybe because Grif was willing? Likely no one else would be.

He let out another deep sigh, tilting his head back to look balefully at the night sky while he wallowed in self-pity.

Oh hey... What about a window? There was one on the second floor... And a window wasn't a door. **AND** in Dracula, the count had gotten into Lucy Westenra's room via the window!

He was a bat at the time, but that wasn't the reason he could get in right? Hopefully not, because Simmons couldn't turn into a bat, or a dog, or a wolf, or a rat, or mist...

But was it open? He was pretty sure it had to be open...

 

He felt a tingling prickly sensation up the back of his neck and he could suddenly see the window in perfect focus. Right down to the splinters in the wood of the frame, just as old and worn as the rest of the house. He swore he could feel the flow of air coming out from the open sliver...

How to get up... No trellises or gutter pipes to climb, at least not on this side. Maybe on the other side?

He was so lost in thought he didn't immediately notice and was only brought back by a sudden falling sensation in his stomach, which then brought him abruptly to the lack of anything solid under his feet. He stifled an embarrassing squawk, clapping his hands over his mouth, a muffled grunt escaping when his back bumped into the lip of the roof.

Oh, fuck! Oh shit! He-He was floating! Shit, umm oh no no no, no he didn't want to, um, how do you turn this off?!

How had he turned it on?! Didn't this only happen when he was sleeping?

Should he, should he call for help? Would Grif hear him? But what if someone saw him?!

Fuck, maybe... Maybe he could reach the window? Something about wanting to get in up there had caused this, it had to have, there was literally no other reason, so maybe if he got in it would stop? Or he'd fuck up and float off into the sky and either be stuck there until the sun came up and he died, float off into space where he'd get hit by the sun and die, or eventually fall and then find out if Vampires could die by hitting the ground at a 122mph...

Oh goody.

 

Awkwardly he shuffled himself around, clinging to the rain gutter like a terrified lizard, legs trying to float off into the sky. Okay, window to the right, not that far, if he could just reach...

He almost missed, dangling by one hand, scribbling at the window with the other, but he caught the frame's edge just as he lost his grip, and he did not squeak like a prepubescent child when he did so, absolutely not. Took him a minute to get the window fully open, hard to do upside down, but he did get it in the end and shimmied through the window. As soon as he did so he was hit with a sudden but brief wave of extreme discomfort, almost like he might throw up, but as soon as it came it was gone and he was inside.

Where he promptly floated up and hit the ceiling.

Ass.

 

Okay fine! Fine then! He wouldn't let this stop him! He was going to... Going to um... Find a way down stairs and watch TV! From on the ceiling! Fucking show you! Floaty bullshit powers...

It was easier to move along than he'd expected, it was in essence like reverse gravity, letting him shimmy along at a slow crawl. Until he made it to the stairs. An impasse.

He struggled to find some, any, sort of grip to pull himself down to grab the banister, but there wasn't anything, not even a photo.

Come on... Please. _Please?_. He just wanted to go down stairs. Just down, just to the floor, first floor, come on.

“Oh you're fucking kidding...” he groaned under his breath as on the fourth or fifth pass searching for any kind of hand hold his hand stuck to the fucking _wall_. Not like stuck, stuck, but like a sort of magnet?

With an almost manic grin, he made his way down towards the first floor, stealthily, slinking like a graceful predator, clinging like a...

“Spider Simmons, Spider Simmons, does whatever a- ACK!”

**THUMP**

Well then... That was gone, the floating too.

“Graceful.”

And there was Grif. Goodie.

 

The larger man was standing a little ways away slightly down the small hall that connected the living room with the dining room, smirking down at the vampire as he tried to disengage himself from the tangled heap he'd landed in, one arm crossed over his chest, what appeared to be a beer in his opposing hand.

“Now how did you get in? I didn't invite you, and no one else is here.” His host asked casually before flicking his eyes to the ceiling and then back to Simmons, “Window.” he stated, eyebrow raised, “Good to know. Better make sure they're shut from now on.”

“If it's any consolation,” Simmons said as he got back on his feet, hoping he'd stay that way this time, “I felt like I was gonna hurl when I climbed in.”

“Interesting.” Grif gestured at him with his drink, “I still didn't tell you you could come back in.” he made a shooing gesture, “Back out you go.”

Simmons glared, hackles raised, “No way! Are you nuts? I think I've been punished enough thank you!” and now that you fucking mention it, “I should kick your ass!”

An eyebrow raise again, “You're gonna kick my ass?”

“I should!”

“No, you won't. I might be lazy but I'm still a vampire hunter, I know how to deal with you. And you? You don't know shit.”

Simmons took an angry step towards him, “Look, I get why you're mad. But that shit wasn't cool! And I'm not apologizing for what I did!”

Grif nodded disinterestedly, “Mhmm... Yup okay.” he gestured to something on a small end table pressed against the wall, “know what that is?” small lamp, standard family photos, various brick-a-brack, and-

“A jar of buttons?”

“Yup.” Grif picked them up, “They're Kai's, started collecting them when she was little, liked all the shapes and colors and shit, we got into the habit of giving them to her and she'd put them in the jar until it filled up, got a few of them actually. Mom encouraged her, a good habit to have, good for dealing with vampires if you're stuck.”

He received a slow disbelieving blink from Simmons in response, “Vampires are scared of buttons?”

Grif laughed like he knew a joke Simmons wasn't privy to, “No. No.” grinning like a mad man he tucked his beer under his arm and popped the lid to the mason jar, “Have fun dude.”

And then he upended the whole thing onto the floor.

Simmons stared at the now rainbow cascade spread across the boards, a few strays still rolling along in an attempt to escape, “That was stupid... Was that supposed to do something?”

Grif snickered and turned away, heading off down the hall, waving behind him, “Have fun!” he repeated.

“Hold it I'm not done talking to you!” Simmons growled and stormed after him.

 

… He stormed after him.

… He... Stormed after him.

He. Stormed. After. Him.

He stormed- no.

No?

No.

But-

_Count them._

… What...?

**_Count them._ **

He... He had to count them. Had... Had to.

The redhead stood rigid, trembling, feet rooted just before the pile of buttons.

Thousands of buttons....

Millions of buttons?

His knees hit the floor before he knew it, hands frantically scrabbling for buttons, trying to organize them, trying to hold them while counting, kept dropping them.

1, 2, 5, 6, 10, 15- shit fuck! He dropped one! Where was it? Was at 18? no, 21? Shit! Shit! _1, 2, 3, 4, 5..._

“GOD DAMN YOU GRIF!”

 

He was in the living room when Grif wandered back over an hour later. Crammed into the corner of the couch, hunched up, legs curled up into his chest, arms crossed over his knees, mouth hidden behind his arms, throw from the back of said couch tossed around his shoulders. Staring blankly at the TV, not actually watching the infomercial playing away on it, probably looked like crap, if the look Grif gave him was any indication, the guy actually looked like he felt bad for a moment. Well good for him.

Though what was really something was what was on the coffee table in front of him. Arranged by size and color were the buttons, piled in perfect symmetrical stacks, an almost gradient of hues that would have made Donut drop to his knees and weep.

“Impressive,” Grif said, tone showing that it was at least somewhat genuine, taking a seat near the middle of the sofa, Simmons could tell he was looking at him, could feel it on his skin, but he refused to return the glance.

There was a long and awkward silence before he finally spoke, eyes still locked on the TV he wasn't watching.

 

“You have 8, 483 buttons.” pause, “3 paper clips... 1 pull tab off of a soda. 1 watch battery. And $4.03 made up of 10 quarters, 12 dimes, 4 nickels, and 13 pennies.”

“Huh...”

“Please don't do that again... It's awful.”

Grif hummed, “Knew you'd be compelled to count them, didn't know you'd organize them too.”

“I did that on my own.”

“Of course you did...”

Slowly, the vampire turned to look at Grif, his eyes a bit dull, god he felt horrible, “I don't think you're livestock... I'm sorry.”

“It's okay, you didn't know.” The other man admitted quietly.

“Do vampires normally treat the.... humans, they umm... like that, like they're pets?”

 

Grif looked at the table, “A lot of them do, at least that's what I heard. Most thralls don't care how they get treated. They let their vampire treat them like they own them, let them control every part of their lives, who they know, what they wear, what they eat, what kind of medical care they get, what kind of job they have, everything. Probably feel like they're being cared for like they're special. But they aren't. It's all so they taste better. They're just food.”

He turned back again, Simmons didn't look away.

“I don't think you're food, Grif.” he leaned back against the couch shuffling a little closer to him, “I didn't throw it all away because I want your blood to taste better. It really did go bad. It's not good for you. And I...” Simmons looked away, face turning red, “Losing blood all the time isn't good for you either. You'd get sick and...” I take so much from you, every single day, I don't give a single thing back. How can I not try to do.... **Something**!

 

Grif huffed a laugh, “Sap. I guess I can forgive you.” He shifted a bit in his seat, raising a hand to gesture at his neck, “Speaking of, you're probably starving huh?”

“Mmhmm...” Simmons mumbled, he'd been trying to ignore it for as long as he could, it really wasn't healthy to lose blood every single day, “I'm sorry...”

“It's fine. I tell you that every time. Hope you believe me soon, it's fucking exhausting.” Grif grumbled, trying to lighten the mood, “Come on, eat. Then we can find something actually tolerable to watch, and I'll probably take a nap.” He gave Simmons a pointed look, “And you better make sure you actually make it to bed tonight because it's freaky as hell to wake up to you literally dead two feet away from me.”

The redhead flushed, “I will! God, it isn't that bad!”

“Dude, your eyes are open and everything. You're literally a corpse when you're sleeping. Not to mention the floating.”

Simmons cringed, scooting closer, he'd have to abandon his blanket cocoon soon, “It's not on purpose...”

“Less talking more biting. Oh god, don't tell my sister I said that...”

Simmons braced himself with a hand on Grif's leg, eyes already honing in on his favorite feeding spot. “I won't. Trust me I don't want to be anywhere near that conversation.”

 

He paused, lips almost touching the skin of Grif's neck, “I really am grateful for your help you know...” And so very much more.

He saw the bob of Grif's Adam's apple out of the corner of his eye and felt him shiver.

“It really is fine.”

“Still, thank you.” Simmons whispered before finally giving in and sinking his fangs into Grif's neck.

  
THE END.

**Author's Note:**

> Ta da! Hope you guys enjoyed this silly little thing! Again you should totally go read "You Suck" if you haven't already!


End file.
